Uncle Shawn and Bill and the Almost Entirely Unplanned Adventure

In which Badger Bill is mistaken for someone taller and there is a great deal of running. And some shouting. The McGloones don’t get what they expected and Uncle Shawn runs out of plan and then finds some more plan and many things happen all at once. And there is a great deal of mud.

Meanwhile over in the llama field it had actually stopped raining, even though the llamas had definitely seemed to hear thunder coming near, which they thought was odd.

“I don’t want to be killed and made into pies on a nice day,” said Guinevere Llama. “Then I’ll miss it.”

The llamas had been too downhearted to notice Uncle Shawn dancing very carefully round the whole of their field as the sun rose. They also hadn’t noticed the cloud of dust hanging above what had been McGloone Farm and the farm buildings and the sisters’ cottage.

They were very able to notice, though, when each of the posts holding the electric fence that was keeping them prisoner did its own small dance and then toppled onto the ground.

Brian and the others started to wonder if they could escape. “We can! We can!” shouted Guinevere Llama.

But the fence had been very tall and now that it was lying down it was very wide. It was, in fact, a big, wide strip of wires, each one full of snaky, bitey electricity, hissing and buzzing in the grass. And if that wasn’t enough of a problem, they could hear feet running towards them…

Up over the brow of the hill came a strange sight: the top and then the rest of Badger Bill. “What a very tall badger,” said Guinevere.

But then, as Uncle Shawn appeared carrying Bill on his shoulders, the llamas started to be afraid. They weren’t sure who was going to make them into pies and shoes and maybe a very tall man and a very short badger would be the ones to do the slish-slashing.

Bill was already afraid enough for several much taller badgers. He knew that the McGloones weren’t that far behind and that they were incredibly angry – even for McGloones. And he could hear something else – a noise that made his fur prickle. “What’s that sound, Uncle Shawn?”

“Oh, that – that’s the electricity in the fence. It’s rushing back and forth and waiting to electrocute anyone who comes near it so that they’re turned all crispy like toast.” Uncle Shawn grinned, as if this wasn’t scary.

Uncle Shawn didn’t stop running, but he did slow down a bit so that he didn’t scare the llamas by rushing towards them too much. “Oh, yes. This is the part of my plan that I didn’t quite have time to finish…”

“What??!!!???!!!! I don’t want to be toast. I’ve only just escaped being eaten by three dogs.” Bill smoothed his ears and patted his whiskers and wrung his paws. “And who are these llamas?” Bill’s voice sounded all joggly because Uncle Shawn’s running was jiggling him.

The llamas had trotted very nervously towards the fence. Bill saw the eight frightened llama eyes watching him and watching the electrical wires as they writhed and complained like annoyed spaghetti.

“Who are you?” asked Brian Llama, sounding very suspicious and angry. “Because if you’ve come to slish-slash and make us into wallets and pies, I warn you – we will spit and bite and do terrible things to you.” But by the time he’d finished saying this his voice sounded all wobbly and sad and it looked as if he was crying. “Oh, dear,” he sighed. The other llamas shook their heads slowly and blinked as they and Bill and Uncle Shawn worked their way along what used to be the fence – lots of bitey electricity humming and fizzing between them.

“Don’t worry?!” complained Bill. “We could be toast at any moment and the McGloones are coming and they want to make all of us into … into … just one big pie probably.”

“Pie!” All the llamas squealed and ran to the other side of the field and then – “McGloones!” – they ran back, just as the McGloones did indeed appear, red-faced and angrier than a washing machine full of hornets. The fence sizzled, the llamas shuddered and – above all the din – everyone could hear Maude screeching, “We’ll have their eyessss! We’ll have them sssstewed in butter!” And her hissing and spitting landed on the fence and made it crackle. The McGloones started to run round the field to reach Uncle Shawn and Bill who were, by now, the two people they hated most in the world – which is saying something.

“Now, llamas! All is well,” called Uncle Shawn, his long legs starting to race again. “My friends the moles have burrowed away underneath the fence and made it fall, but now I need you to be brave and jump over it so that you can come away with me.”

The llamas stared at him and stopped trying to keep up. They just stood, looking scared and little.

“There’s no time to be scared now. You have to be brave very fast,” said Uncle Shawn, glancing at the pursuing horde of McGloones. “Within the next minute or so … maybe less.” He was now going clockwise round the remains of the fence and had reached about where six o’clock would be if the big, round, fallen fence had been a clock face. The McGloones were at midnight and were also running clockwise round the fence, trying to get closer. “Please, llamas!”

But the llamas just looked at him. They were so used to being sad and defeated that they couldn’t think what they should do.

“Come on!” Uncle Shawn yelled loudly, so that the chasing and scrambling McGloones could hear him. “The dreadful McGloones are here and you know how bad they smell and sound and how dreadful Myrtle is – the only woman horribler than Myrtle is Maude. I mean, they’re all TERRIBLE…”

Bill looked over his shoulder at the red-faced McGloones, who had got as far as three o’clock. This was all right, because Uncle Shawn had now run as far as eight o’clock … but they were getting closer. Bill whispered to Uncle Shawn, “The McGloones are already so angry they look as if their ears will catch fire. Is it wise to make them even angrier by insulting them? Maybe if we said nice things about them…” And Bill tried to think of a compliment to shout at Maude or Ethel, but all he could think of was, “Your voice would scratch windows,” which wasn’t a compliment at all.

“Please now, llamas,” begged Uncle Shawn, “jump! Before you have to look at Bettina McGloone’s cardigan. It’ll make you sick. And her face… It’ll make your fur change colour.”

Meanwhile, the McGloones panted and struggled closer. They had run a long way round and round the fence and they weren’t very fit and it was very muddy, which was making it hard to keep going – but still they had reached eight o’clock. And Uncle Shawn was only at where ten o’clock would have been, if they had been running round a nice, safe, big clock instead of a muddy, scary, deadly fence at the top of a round, wet hill.

The llamas stayed still and snuffled and shuffled their hooves. Brian Llama licked his sore hoof. It wasn’t really sore, but he always licked it when he was upset.

It didn’t help that Fred McGloone (who never usually said anything ever) then screamed at everyone, but mainly Uncle Shawn, “I will suck the marrow from your bones and then make them into whistles, you lanky, smiley, nasty… YOU KNOCKED DOWN OUR HOUSE. IT HAD OUR MONEY IN IT AND OUR KNIVES AND STICKS AND STONES AND CHAINS. REVENGE!” It was the most Fred had ever said and he was getting nearer, at the head of all the McGloones.

Uncle Shawn just laughed and shouted back, “I can’t hear you – your face is making me deaf!” Which was a very rude thing to say, even to a McGloone.

Bill decided he should talk to the llamas, because he knew how horrible it was to be stuck somewhere you didn’t want to be and to have lost hope. He tried to keep his voice as unjoggly as possible as he bounced about on top of Uncle Shawn’s shoulders while they sprinted along. He yelled to the llamas, “I know you’re scared. I’d be scared, too. But Uncle Shawn is a… He’s my friend. He’s my first friend… He’s my best friend… And you could come and…”

“And you can stay with us,” suggested Uncle Shawn, as if this was a very good and sensible idea. He reached up to his shoulders and patted Bill’s paw. “You can all stay with me. We’ll have fun.”

“Really,” whispered Uncle Shawn. “We just need to get the McGloones annoyed enough and then we can do the rescuing thing. Keep going. You’re saying just the right words in just the right order.”

And so Bill kept talking as Uncle Shawn ran along the outside of the fence and the mud got more trampled and the electricity, it seemed, got more annoyed. But it wasn’t as furious as the McGloones.

The McGloones were passing four o’clock now and Uncle Shawn was only just about at five … which wasn’t far enough away…

“Come and stay with us, llamas, and we’ll have fun together. And … and…” Bill was very scared and the fence was hissing and steaming in the grass like four hundred hot snakes… “We’ll have lemonade.”

And close, close, closer was the nasty noise of McGloones running and shouting at each other. “Get out of my way, stoat brains!”

“I’ll ssskin those llamasss mysssself. I need a new handbag!” hissed Maude.

And Bill thought he heard the clunking sound of llama knives banging together. “Oh, do jump,” he called.

And then there were knives being thrown at him and Uncle Shawn and landing in the grass all around.

“Of course you are – you stayed in this horrible wet field for ages and didn’t get enough to eat and thought you were alone and that you were going to be made into pies – and you put up with all of it. You’re the bravest llamas I’ve met.” Actually Bill had never met any other llamas, but he didn’t mention that. “JUMP!”

And an especially well-aimed knife whisked clean over the top of Bill’s head and gave him a new parting.

And finally Guinevere Llama did jump and just cleared the fence, which crackled as she passed over and singed her ankle fur a tiny bit.

Then she and Uncle Shawn had to keep running as the McGloones lunged at them. Socket Wrench McGloone went sliding under Uncle Shawn’s left foot, which he’d lifted just in time. The boy went slithering past down the muddy slope, saying bad words as he went.

Then Carlos Llama jumped and was free and he immediately had to dodge Small McGloone and Bettina McGloone as they tried to grab him. They were again defeated by the mud, which caught at their big, heavy McGloone boots and slowed them. It was getting stickier and oozier the more Uncle Shawn jumped and sprang and ran and danced in it, round and round the field.

And then Ginalolobrigida Llama leapt very gracefully and landed – not on purpose – right on Maude’s feet, squishing her bare toes and making her sit down hugging both her feet and looking like a pile of evil washing. The other McGloones tumbled over her and were now sloshing about in the mud, rolling and biting each other. But it wouldn’t be long before they were up on their feet again and galloping round the field in the big broad track of mud their chasing and Uncle Shawn’s racing had created.

“Please, please, please,” coaxed Bill, still joggling on Uncle Shawn’s shoulder. “What’s your name, last llama? And why won’t you jump?”

Brian Llama paused and said very quietly, “I’m Brian Llama.” And then he asked, “Is it really safe? I don’t think it is. I don’t think I can jump. I can’t.” While Bettina McGloone and Socket Wrench McGloone helped each other up and then helped Small McGloone, Brian whispered, “I’m much more scared than the other llamas.”

And then – because the McGloones were all back on their feet and so near and so furious, everyone yelled, “BRIAN, YOU’RE THE BRAVEST, MOST FEARLESS AND MAGNIFICENT LLAMA WE’VE EVER MET!”

“I’ll have a chocolate-and-cream-coloured handbag from them if it’s the last thing I do!”

And Bill could smell how angry and rotten the McGloones were and he shouted to Brian Llama, “Come on and jump!”

And Uncle Shawn and Carlos and Ginalolobrigida and Guinevere were all dodging and leaping in the mud to avoid McGloone hands that were trying to grab and McGloone feet that were trying to kick them and McGloone mouths that were trying to bite them. It looked as if they were all dancing for their lives, round and round the outside of the fence. Which they were.

And Uncle Shawn shouted to the McGloones, “Are you sure you want to do this? Are you absolutely sure? Do you really want to be so very, very angry?”

And Farmer McGloone yelled back, “We’re not nearly as angry as we’ll get!” And his head began to swell with fury as if it might burst.

And Maude McGloone screamed, “I’ll ssscoop out your insssidesss like iccce cream!” She pointed at Uncle Shawn. “And I’ll use your ssskin to make a sssatchel!” Which soaked everyone, including Uncle Shawn, who just shook his head – maybe because he was sad for her and maybe because he was trying to get spit out of his eyebrows.

And then he had to dodge another nearly successful grab at his throat from Myrtle McGloone, who jumped up at him as if she was on nasty, angry springs. Uncle Shawn called to Brian, “Now or never, young llama. You have to jump!”

“WE CAN’T!” shouted everyone together, sliding and twisting and hopping round the muddy track they were making muddier by the minute. “YOU’RE OUR FRIEND!”

Uncle Shawn yelled in his loudest yell, “YOU ARE A VERY BRAVE LLAMA! NOW COME HERE SO WE CAN HAVE LEMONADE AND FUN!”

And then, one-two-three-four, each one of his hooves just managed to miss the fence and carry him to freedom.

And this made Bill and Uncle Shawn and all the other llamas cheer more loudly than they ever had, or thought they could.

And this made Mrs McGloone and Farmer McGloone so completely furious that their ears really did catch light and then they just burst – POP POP – like two extremely horrible balloons that you would never want at a party.

And this made the other McGloones so angry that they used up the very last of their strength in chasing the llamas and Uncle Shawn (who was still carrying Badger Bill) as they took off round the fence again.

“Fast as you can!” called Uncle Shawn. “Faster than you have in your lives! Run! I have a plan!”

And so everyone took off in a splatter and scatter of mud, pursued by the remaining McGloones, even the limping Maude.

And when he was right at the top of the field again – at midnight – and the McGloones were right at the bottom – at six o’clock – Uncle Shawn stopped. And then he asked everyone to make the rudest, most annoying faces they could at the McGloones. And he said that they should shout the most insulting insults they could think of.

And this was very easy for everyone. “Slap feet! Barnacle brains! Lily-livered long-toothed layabouts!” They also said much worse things than that.

And Ethel McGloone and Maude McGloone and Socket Wrench and Small and Bettina and Dusty and Fred McGloone heard the much worse things and then they all took one look at the llamas blowing raspberries and sticking their tongues out at them and Badger Bill crossing his eyes and Uncle Shawn pointing and laughing and wriggling his hair … and they made a terrible mistake.

Each McGloone was too furious to be sensible (and they had all been quite stupid in the first place) and so they decided that the quickest way to get hold of the llamas and Bill and Uncle Shawn would be by taking a shortcut across the field…

They forgot about the terrible electricity waiting inside the fence to sizzle whoever stepped on it. And their big, heavy, muddy boots and their big, heavy bare feet all stomped down at once with a huge furious BANG.

And as soon as they stomped on the sneaky snaky wires, they were turned into toast. They were frizzled and fried and electrocuted into toast, with a fizzing noise and a puff of greasy smoke.

There was a smell of bad pies and then nothing but silence as the wires lost all their electricity and went to sleep.

And the shapes of what used to be McGloones were there in crispy bits of toast dust on the wet grass.

And then there was the sound of four llamas and one badger and one uncle being out of breath.

“Well,” said Uncle Shawn. “It is always very sad when someone is turned into toast … but they really did deserve it. They really did.” He nodded and sniffed and set down Badger Bill so that he could walk if he wanted, because there was no rush now. “I think that if we go this way, we will meet Paul with my caravan and we can have breakfast and lunch together, both at the same time because we deserve it. You’ll like Paul – he is very clever. He’s had lessons in seeing in the dark and staring at clouds and listening to vegetables and all the important subjects.”

Bill reached up to take Uncle Shawn’s hand, because they were best friends. And together with the llamas they turned their backs on the place where they had not been happy and set off towards somewhere that they would.

SECTION SEVENTEEN